


Widower

by Little_Octopus



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gay Parents, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Octopus/pseuds/Little_Octopus
Summary: Arthur is a great single dad. He does the best he can to provide for his son, Alfred. Francis works all day to give his son,  Matthew, what he needs. When the boys connect over both losing a parent, they become the best of friends. Wanting their dads to be happy, the boys hatch a plan.





	1. Chapter 1

Widower  
Chapter One

*Hey guys! If you followed me from Fanfiction, go ahead to whatever chapter you were on.

If you're new to this story, please enjoy!*

Arthur was a great dad. Well, he tried to be. It was hard to play both mom and dad with a rambunctious six year old. Especially when he had only been doing it for two years. 

And so, here Arthur stood, cooking a special breakfast for his precious baby's first day of first grade, alone, with tears pooling in his bright green eyes. He hadn't known it would be so hard to do this. Last year, when his baby started kindergarten, he was a mess. So why was first grade equally as hard? Was it because Alfred now had a full day instead of a half day of school? Or he wouldn't hear the stomping feet of his baby as he played superheroes? Or was it that he didn't have to cook macaroni and cheese everyday? 

“Dad! I can't find my other shoe!” came a shout from up the stairs.

Arthur sniffed and rolled his eyes before he quickly dried them. “Did you check under your bed, Al?”

After a moment's silence Arthur got his answer. “I found it!”

Arthur chuckled and slid his son’s Mickey Mouse pancake on a plate. Another few moments and stamping feet came into the kitchen.

“Did you brush your hair, Alfred?” Arthur asked knowing full well that he did not. He still had cowlicks on the back of his head, never mind the one that bounced on top of his head.

“I did!” Alfred said. His blue eyes twinkled with excitement of his first day of real school, he liked to call it.

“Uh huh.” Arthur gave Alfred his plate before going to his own bathroom to retrieve a comb.

Upon coming back, Alfred had not even put syrup on his pancake. “Is something wrong, Alfred?”

The young boy looked up from his plate. The excitement still there, but now damped with something on his young mind.

“Mom made Mickey Mouse better. This one has lopsided ears,” he said softly.

Arthur felt his breath catch. Then he relaxed and smiled. “Sorry, Al. I'll get it tomorrow.”

He didn't cook very often, and when he did, Arthur tried to make it the way Alfred would request. Arthur just wasn't as good in the kitchen as Alfred’s mom.

“Mom used a spoon,” Alfred said. He finally dumped the syrup bottle over his pancake. “Maybe that will help.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Arthur stood behind Alfred and began to comb through the snarls in his wheat hair.

Arthur would get it. Eventually. This whole parenting by himself thing. His wife, Audra, was better at this than him. Then the ovarian cancer took her away from him, and their son. Alfred had come into their lives when he was just three months old. Audra, unable to conceive, got the great plan of adoption. With her being a teacher and Arthur being a lawyer, the adoption went through just fine. However now that Arthur had to be both mom and dad, he was a stay at home father and managed things online for his company. He didn't get paid as much as he used to, but it was enough to get them by.

Alfred finished his pancake. He picked up his plate and pushed it in the sink. Then he turned to his dad. “Is my backpack ready?”

“Yeah. It's right over here.” Arthur walked to the door with Alfred hot on his heels. “Do you want me to walk you to the bus stop?”

Alfred slipped his backpack on with his father's help. Then he looked up at Arthur and smiled. “Duh.”

Arthur ruffled his boy’s hair. “Alright. Let's go.”

The young boy jogged to the door and swung it open. “Hurry, Dad!”

“I'm coming.” Arthur slid his apron off and left it in a bunch on the entryway table. “Don't run-” he turned to find the boy halfway across the yard. “ahead.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and left the house. “Alfie!” he called, jogging to catch his son. “Come back here!”

Alfred groaned but stopped a few yards ahead of Arthur. “We'll miss the bus!”

“We are right on time, we won't be late.”

Arthur finally got to Alfred and took his hand. “Remember your manners.”

“I know,” Alfred said. He swung his free am in wide arcs.

“And be nice to others.”

“I know, Dad.” Alfred hopped over a crack.

“Eat all of your lunch. I don't want you going hungry.”

“Okay, Dad.” Alfred picked up a leaf and twirled it between his fingers.

“And keep things that belong outside, outside.”

Alfred dropped the leaf and looked up at his father. “I know, Dad. Geez.”

When they arrived at the bus stop on the corner, Arthur felt a sharp sting in the back of his eyes. Alfred jumped from foot to foot beside him. Eager to go to school.

Arthur saw the bus coming down the street, he kneeled down and hugged Alfred tightly to his chest. “I love you, baby.”

Alfred squeezed Arthur's neck and shoulders, his voice small and meek. “Love you, Daddy.”

Then the bus was there, and Alfred was gone. His chubby little angelic face pressed against the window with a grin and a wave.

Arthur found himself staring at the bus even after it turned the corner. His cheeks soaked with tears, and his wedding ring pressed against his chest.

¤

Francis didn't know what to do. His beautiful angelic child was being a demon. Now most children would act this way correct? But not Matthew. He was a good boy who caused little trouble. Now he was making Francis want to rip his hair out.

“Matthew, dear, unlock the bathroom.” Francis said, again, in his strained voice.

“No!” came the child’s stubborn reply.

“You don't even know if school is going to be as bad as you think!” Francis pushed against the door while jiggling the knob.

“You don't know that it won't be!”

“I've been to school and survived. Many kids go to school just fine. Why would you be any different?”

Silence answered Francis. He groaned and rubbed his hand down his face before dropping to his side. Then his son spoke.

“I'm different because I don't have both dads.” The voice was sad, broken, shaky and dripping with tears.

Francis leaned heavily against the door. He sometimes felt that Matthew was having a worse time than him. It had already been a year, shouldn't things be getting better?

“Matthew, please let me in,” Francis said softly.

The door began to give under Francis and he stepped back before he fell in. His little Matthew stood there before him, his chubby cheeks and nose red, his blue eyes swimming with tears and his mouth opened with sobs, revealing his first lost tooth.

Francis knelt down and grabbed his son’s hands. “Shh, shh. Don't cry. Not on your very first day of school!”

Matthew fell against Francis’s chest. Tiny fists dug into the man’s back, but he didn't mind. He ran his fingers through wavy blond hair and rocked gently back and forth.

“He wouldn't want you crying now would, he?” Francis asked, referring to Matthew’s other father, who had died in a car crash a year before.

Matthew shook his little head.

“Then let's fix that.” Francis leaned back and cupped his angel’s face. “Is your backpack ready?”

Matthew sniffed and ran his arm under his nose. “Yeah.”

“Alright, let's get you to school.” Francis stood and (after washing Matthew's hands) carried his son to the car outside.

¤

Alfred gazed in wonder around the classroom. Kindergarten had been fun, but that had only been half a day. He was going to spend all day in the colorful classroom. He couldn't wait.

As his eyes wandered, he caught sight of a father with long blond hair talking to the teacher, a kid stood next to the tall man, his arm wrapped around his father's leg. Alfred kind of thought the kid looked like him. It would be cool if they could freak the teachers out. He wanted to be friends with that kid.

After a few nods between the adults, the man knelt down and spoke to his son. Alfred watched with interest, wondering what the dad and the teacher had talked about. The man left and the boy broke into tears. The teacher placed the boy near the back of the room, a few seats away from Alfred.

Alfred glanced at the teacher and saw that she was talking to another parent. He stood from his seat and moved to the crying boy.

“Are you okay?” Alfred asked.

“Go away,” the boy snuffed through tears.

“But you're crying. My dad says that if someone is crying, you should-”

“Go away!” The boy snapped. He raised his head and threw out his arm, not realizing Alfred was so close.

The other boy stumbled back from the hit. His chin began to hurt. The other boy had hit him! His eyes filled with tears. “You meanie! I was just trying to help!” Alfred yelled.

“I don't want your help!” The boy snapped back.

Now, Alfred's Daddy always told him not to hit or kick anybody. Even if you were super mad. Alfred always remembered that rule. Except for now. He arched his leg and kicked the boy right on his knee.

And that's when they were both rolling on the ground. Shouts and little fists flying. 

“Boys! Boys!” The teacher managed to separate the two. “What is going on here?”

“He hit me!” Alfred said, pointing a finger at the other kid. He felt something trickle down his chin and he wiped it off. Glancing down, he realized it was blood.

“He kicked me!” The other boy accused. His lip was bleeding and his nice clothes were rumpled.

The teacher let out a huff. She grabbed each of their hands and looked about the room. “Parents and students, I am terribly sorry. I have to take these boys to the office. I'll be right back.”

Alfred stumbled behind the teacher, a hand pressed against his nose. In the office, he was given a tissue. He told the desk-lady his name and tilted his head against the wall. His daddy had shown him how to take care of bloody noses.

As he waited for the bleeding to stop, he discovered that the other kid’s name was Matthew. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Alfred saw that Matthew had an ice-pack to his cheek.

A few minutes later, Arthur burst through the door. “Alfred?”

“I'm here, Dad,” Alfred called, his voice muffled.

“Baby!” Arthur rushed over and peeled off the bloodied tissue. “What happened? Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital? How long have you been bleeding?”

Alfred sat still as Arthur looked over him. Ever since Mom had died, Dad had been crazy over even the tiniest of blood. Alfred guessed he understood, but it was still annoying.

“I'm fine, Dad. It was just a-”

“Fight, Mr. Kirkland. Alfred got into a fight.” the teacher said, who Alfred had discovered was named Miss Percy.

Arthur straightened from Alfred's side. “My Alfred would never do such a thing-”

“That boy behind you was who Alfred fought with,” Miss Percy said

“My goodness! Is he okay?” Arthur turned, changing from defensive to protective in an instant, and leaned over Matthew, checking for any serious injuries.

“Step away from my son!” Another dad burst through the door, his face red.

“Papa!” Matthew cried. New tears began to pour from his eyes.

“I am terribly sorry, sir. I was just checking-”

“Maybe you should keep your own child in check!” The man snapped. He turned to Matthew and began cooing in a strange language Alfred didn't understand.

“Well! Excuse me for trying to help!” Arthur barked back. Then he turned to Miss Percy. “If that is all, I will be taking Alfred home now.”

“Actually, I would like to discuss what happened here.” The young teacher folded her hands.

“What is there to discuss? My baby has a bloody nose! What if it's broken? What if he needs to go to the hospital?” Alfred cringed as Arthur's voice rose.

“My Matthew is not nearly strong enough to break a nose!”

“Alfred is very fragile! He-”

“Dad!” Alfred yanked on Arthur's shirt. “Can we just go? I don't care.” He was tired and his face hurt and he just wanted to sleep. He didn't even care if he missed the first day of school.

Arthur examined his son. His eyes were starting to bruise. Arthur sighed and glared at the father across from him. “Let's get this over with.”

“Alright. Matthew, why don't you tell Papa what happened?” The man knelt down and held the boy's hand.

Matthew shifted the ice pack on his cheek. “I was sad you left, and Alfred wouldn't go away so…” the boy looked away from his father. “I hit him.”

The other dad gasped. “Matthew! What have I told you about hitting?” He continued to rant in that other strange language.

Arthur sighed and helped Alfred to his feet. “We'll be going now.”

“Not quite.” Miss Percy handed each father a piece of paper. “This states that you allow both boys to stay inside from recess for a month for fighting. School policy.”

“What!” Alfred shrieked. “He started it!”

“That doesn't matter, baby.” Arthur signed the paper. “You still hurt Matthew.”

Alfred folded his arms and pouted as Arthur herded him out of the room. It just wasn't fair. 

Still sulking in the car, all the way home Alfred repeated what his dad told him in the parking lot over, and over.

“Make the best of a bad situation.”


	2. Chapter Two

Widower  
Chapter Two 

Alfred pouted as all the other kids shuffled out of the class to recess. He looked over at Matthew. He was pouting too.

Miss Percy instructed them to sit at the table at the front of the class, side by side. The boys complied, though not without a few whines.

“Today, you two will draw something for me.” Miss. Percy said, handing each blond a blank piece of paper.

“What are we drawing?” Matthew asked. His papa had taught him how to draw and he was always eager to practice.

“I want you to draw your families. When you are done, you two will tell each other what you drew.”

“Why are we drawing families though?” Alfred asked. It wasn't that he didn't like drawing, he just wasn't sure how he would draw his mom.

“So you two will learn more about each other.” Miss Percy said. She smiled gently at the boys and went to her desk.

Matthew immediately got up from seat to get the colored pencils he would need. Yellow for his and Papa’s hair. Brown for his Daddy's hair. Purple shirt for Papa, blue shirt for Daddy and a red shirt for him. With his fist full of colors, Matthew sat back down and noticed Alfred hadn't moved.

Alfred didn't know what to do, and it made his heart hurt. He didn't want to tell Matthew why he didn't have a mom in his picture. But he didn't not want to draw his mom, he felt it would hurt her feelings all the way in heaven.

“Alfred, please draw your family.” Miss Percy said sternly. “How else will you share with Matthew?”

With a gulp, Alfred rose from his seat and gathered the colors he wanted. He sat back down and decided he would draw him and Daddy first, then worry about Mommy when he got there.

A few minutes before recess ended, Miss Percy instructed each boy to tell the other what he drew. They stood and faced each other, pictures hidden behind backs.

“Alfred, why don't you go first?” Miss Percy prompted from her desk.

Alfred nodded and held his picture out for the Matthew to see. Alfred kept his eyes on his shoes as he told Matthew about his family. “I live with Daddy. He doesn't cook so great, but he's happy when I eat it. He burns a lot of things. He used to go to work, but now he stays at home and does work from there. His eyebrows are really big and he is from England.”

Matthew didn't say anything. Then he pointed to Alfred's drawing of his mother. “Who is that?”

Alfred didn’t look but knew who Matthew was pointing at, he really didn't want to share, but he knew if he didn't we would never have recess, so he answered. “That's my mom. She died a while ago.” He felt tears pool and he had to look at his shoes again. “She's not with us, but I didn't want to leave her out.”

Instead of replying to Alfred, Matthew presented his own picture. “My dad is gone too.”

Alfred looked up to see a man with brown hair and a blue shirt. He had a golden halo around his head, much like Alfred’s mother's.

“You have two dads?” Alfred asked.

“Yeah.” Matthew said sheepishly. “I know it's kinda weird.”

“That's awesome!” Alfred beamed, dissipating the sad aura. “I bet you guys had so much fun!”

A smile began to spread across Matthew's face. “We did. Papa would always play with me while Daddy would watch and freak out a lot. Especially when Papa would swing me too high.”

“Is your papa that guy I saw?” Alfred asked, pointing at the blond in purple shirt.

“Yeah.”

“He talks funny.”

Matthew giggled. “He speaks French. Daddy would complain when he did because he couldn't understand.”

“But you understand?”

Matthew nodded. 

“That's cool.”

“You're daddy kinda freaked out when he saw your blood. That's weird?”

“Yeah. My mom bled a lot. She couldn't have babies because of it. So her and Daddy picked me out,” Alfred said. Though he smiled, his eyes seemed haunted by memories of his mother.

“You were picked out too?” Matthew asked.

Alfred furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to respond, but Miss Percy clapped her hands. “Good job today, boys! We'll continue this tomorrow! I think you'll be friends in no time!”

She gathered their pictures and the rest of the class came shuffling in. As the two boys continued on with their day, they couldn't shake the feeling that there was something going between them that no one else knew. Not even them.

¤

Arthur was waiting for Alfred by the bus stop when a silver car rolled smoothly by. Arthur looked up from the book he had brought and felt a weird pang go through him. The father he had met the other day was in the car, and Alfred was in the backseat!

Arthur's breath hitched as he dropped his book and began to pursue the car, however he was stopped by a voice.

“Daddy, where are you going?”

Feeling the voice like a punch in the heart, Arthur turned to see his baby standing by the bus stop, his bag on his back and a paper in his hand. The big yellow monster of a bus rolled by as Arthur rushed to Alfred.

“Nothing, Al. What do you have there?” Arthur took Alfred's bag for him and picked up his book as they began walking home.

“We had to draw our families while we had to stay inside for recess.” Alfred said, holding his picture up for Arthur to take.

“So you and Matthew can learn more about each other?” Arthur asked. He examined the picture and felt his heart jump Alfred had drawn them, holding hands, and Audra above them, a golden halo around her head. Each one of them had a huge smile.

“Yeah. He has one daddy too, and another in heaven, with mom. And he was picked like I was.” Alfred jumped over cracks in the sidewalk as he talked.

Arthur wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. He couldn't let Alfred see him so upset when he was so happy. “You two have a lot in common it sounds like.”

“It's really cool. Like having a brother.” Alfred attempted a cartwheel in the grass of their house, but only managed to donkey kick the air behind him. “I wonder what we'll learn tomorrow.”

Arthur nodded, but he wasn't listening. The picture in his hand clouded his thoughts. Alfred still thought constantly about Audra, would he ever move on? What if Arthur found someone else? How would Alfred react? These thoughts frightened Arthur to his core.

¤

Driving home, Francis saw the English bloke waiting by a bus stop. As he drove past, the man's eyes widened and he took a few steps after the car. Francis furrowed his brow at this but kept driving anyway.

“How was school?” he asked instead.

“It was good. I drew a picture.” Matthew said softly from his booster seat.

“How wonderful! Did you paint like an artist?” Francis beamed. Lately Matthew had wanted to grow up to paint for a living. Though it was not ideal, Matthew was still only five.

“Yes. Alfred thought it was pretty cool.” Matthew said easily.

At least the two weren't punching each other anymore. “What did Alfred draw?”

“He drew his dad, then him and his mom.” Matthew paused. “His mom is in the sky. Like Daddy. And he said he was picked out, like me.”

Francis about ran over their lawn gnome. He kept his eyes downcast as he responded. How could two little boys experience the same tragedy of losing a parent? And both were adopted? The poor dears.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “I'm sure they are keeping each other company.” He slid from the car to help Matthew with his carseat.

“I think so.” Matthew said. He smiled as Francis helped him from the car. He held up his drawing for his dad to look at.

Francis beamed, pushing the thought of deceased parents from his mind. “That's beautiful, Matthew! Why don't you find a spot on the fridge for it?”

The little boy nodded and ran inside. Francis followed more slowly. He heard Matthew clamouring around the kitchen, looking for a magnet. The blond paused to gaze at a family photo of them. Hair brushed, new clothes and bright smiles. All of that was gone because one man decided to drive drunk. Francis eventually joined Matthew in the kitchen, wondering if the boy would be okay.

¤

The next day, the boys played games. The winner got to ask the other a question.

Alfred won the first game. “How do you say your last name?”

“Bonnefoy? Bon-eh-foy.” 

Alfred repeated it a few times then smiled. “Cool.”

Another game later, Matthew won. “What does the F in your name stand for?”

“Franklyn. After my grandpa.”

“Your Daddy's dad or Mommy's dad?” Matthew asked.

“Mom's. He went to heaven before I was picked.”

“Oh.”

Alfred asked the next question. “Why do you and your dad talk funny sometimes?”

“It's French,” Matthew answered, laughing. “Papa and Daddy met in France, moved here and taught it to me.”

“Is that why he says funny English words too?”

“Yeah.”

Matthew's turn. “What was it like to have a mom?”

Alfred paused, then shrugged. “Just like having Daddy, but there was two of them. She was louder than Daddy until she got sick. And she could cook yummy food.” He stopped again and looked at the game piece in his hand. “I really miss her sometimes.”

Matthew chewed his lip before hugging Alfred. “I miss my daddy too.”

The two boys hung on each other, both drawing a long forgotten comfort of being this close to someone.

¤

Miss Percy sent home a note that day. Alfred fidgeted as Arthur read it, unsure of what the note said. When he was finished, Arthur smiled at Alfred.

“I am so proud of you. Miss Percy says you boys have been getting along swimmingly.”

Alfred let his breath out, glad he wasn't in trouble. “So I can to go recess now?”

“Almost.” Arthur folded up the paper. “Miss Percy wants to have one more meeting with both of us tomorrow after school. Maybe tomorrow will be your last time.”

Though, he wanted to complain, Alfred didn't want to ruin his chances. So he nodded and started on writing his letters. Matthew's were almost perfect and Alfred wanted to catch up.

¤

The seats went; Francis, Matthew, Alfred, Arthur. Miss Percy sat in front of them, her hands folded on top of a notepad. “Are we ready to begin?”

“Yes.” “Of course.” The fathers spoke at the same time and shot each other a glare.

Miss Percy glanced between the two and looked at her notepad. “The boys have improved greatly. I have noticed how they eat lunch together now and sit together during free-time.”

Arthur patted Alfred's back and smiled. He knew his boy wasn't a fighter.

“Now that they are done with staying inside, I would like to discuss after school playtime. Though the boys may be okay staying inside, it is still unclear if they can spend outside together,” Miss Percy continued.

“Does that mean we still don't get recess?” Alfred asked, pouting.

Miss Percy laughed. “No, no. You two get recess now, I am just asking your dads to have you two together outside of school.”

“Like a sleepover?” Alfred said excitedly.

“Yeah! That would be so much fun!” Matthew agreed.

Arthur glanced at Francis who met his eye. The British man spoke first. “That should be fine.”

“Yes. We'll be able to do that.” Francis agreed.

The boys cheered and began discussing all the things they would be able to do while the fathers agreed on times and places. It was going to be a fun night.

¤

Arthur walked Alfred to Francis’s door. He held Alfred's bag as the boy skipped and hopped over the cracks. Arthur had no idea why he was nervous. Maybe because it was Alfred's first sleep over? Or that Arthur hadn't been alone in the house since before Audra? Either way, Arthur wasn't sure to cry or vomit.

Alfred knocked on the door and Matthew answered a moment later, Francis coming around the corner behind him. “Matthew! You know to wait until I'm with you to open the door!”

“It's just Alfred,” Matthew said.

“Yes, it's Alfred this time, but what about if it's a man saying he's my friend?” Francis asked.

“Then I say hi?” Matthew asked.

“No, no. You don't answer the door! Stranger danger!” Francis said.

“Same with you, Alfred.” Arthur said. “Never answer the door without me.”

“Okay.” Alfred said. He had never been interested in the door anyway. It was usually old people who never shut up.

“Dinner's just about ready, why don't you show Alfred your room?” Francis asked, letting the boys pass.

Arthur felt his heart clench he didn't even say bye! But God forbid he ever tear up in front of this man!

“Hold on, Mattie!” Alfred cried. He turned and ran back to Arthur, throwing his arms around his father's waist. “Bye, Daddy! I'll see you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Al. Be good.” Arthur squeezed his baby and placed a kiss on Alfred's head. Then he was gone.

Arthur held Alfred's bag out for Francis. “Here is his stuff. He needs a nighttime diaper, but if you could not let Matthew know, Alfred would appreciate it. He's getting better at it, though. And I have an extra pair of socks, underwear and pajamas just incase. Make sure he brushes before bed. And if you want a decent sleep, nothing sugary after seven. Oh, and you'll need to check for monsters before he goes to sleep, he's convinced a giant spider is going to get him if you don't check. And he's allergic to peanuts. I have his medicine in the bag, along with my number, if anything does happen.” He knew he was blabbing and should probably get off this man's porch, but this was his baby they were talking about!

Francis smiled gently. “First sleepover?”

“Yes.” Arthur sighed. “Was it that obvious?

“Ours too. How about I call you before bed to let you know everything is fine?” Francis said. 

Arthur felt a small relief on his heart, but now instead of a whale crushing his chest, it was an overweight elephant. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment and Arthur suddenly realized how handsome Francis was. His eyes were blue, like Alfred's, but instead of youthful and full of laughter, they were...seducing and inviting. Arthur felt his cheeks start to heat up and he began to turn away.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Francis asked abruptly.

Arthur hesitated. It would give him more time with his baby. But when was the last time he was alone? Not to mention his out of the blue realization that Francis was sexy, and Arthur was getting hot and bothered under the collar.

“Ah, no. I have to catch up on some... reading.” Arthur said. “Thank you though.”

“Good night, Arthur.” Francis said smoothly.

Arthur smiled, momentarily forgetting that he'd be alone for a whole night for the first time in years. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He turned and strode down the walkway. He kept his head high, not wanting to appear upset, even though it was painfully obvious before. But something had shifted in Arthur. He didn't want to impress Francis, but he did want the other man to notice him. And that left him with a strange feeling on his short walk home.


	3. Chapter 3

Widower  
Chapter Three

Francis was ready to pull his hair out. The boys weren't being bad by any means, it was just that there were two of them. And Francis could hardly tell them apart as they ran from the living room, to the kitchen, outside and up the stairs. They were shouting about spacemen and aliens and whatever else their minds created at the moment.

During dinner, Francis was very careful to not use any peanut product. He found a used peanut butter and jelly knife in the sink and quickly did the dishes. He even double checked to make sure the peanut butter jar was securely closed.

Though they looked alike, Alfred was a lot louder than Matthew. He wasn't afraid to tell Francis that we wanted more dinner or needed a drink. It was a wonder how the two got along, yet they did.

At bedtime, Francis called Alfred aside to put on the nighttime diaper. Though Alfred pouted through the whole process, he behaved. When he pulled his Superman pajama pants up, he was finally ready for bed. Francis had inflated a bed for Alfred on Matthew's floor and had made it with superhero sheets and a soft blanket.

The boys got settled down and quiet just as Francis remembered he had promised to call Arthur. Swearing under his breath, he retreated to his own room, bringing up number.

After the second ring, Arthur answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, it's Francis,” he said, then instantly felt stupid. Of course it was him. Not only did he watch Arthur put his number into his cell phone, but who else would be calling at nine o'clock at night?

“Hi, how are you? Alfred didn't cause too much trouble did he?” Arthur ended with a gentle chuckle.

“He was just fine. I've never seen Matthew so rambunctious.”

“I'm so sorry, Alfred-”

“No, no. Let me rephrase,” Francis paused, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say. “I haven't seen him this happy since Andrew died.”

Arthur was silent on his end. After a few moments of silence, Arthur cleared his throat. “Was Andrew your-?”

“Husband. He was my husband. Car wreck, drunk driver,” Francis said. He saved all the details of him not being able to drive that stretch of road, or touch a drop of alcohol since that happened.

“I'm so sorry, Francis,” Arthur breathed. The strange thing though was Arthur didn't sound pitiful toward Francis, it was more of an understanding. He didn't know how to respond, but he didn't have to, Arthur continued talking. “Audra had ovarian cancer, she would suddenly bleed sometimes. That's why I was so concerned over Matthew when the boys had their fight.”

“That's awful,” Francis whispered. “I'm so sorry.”

Arthur hummed. Silence filled the line, but it wasn't awkward, it was two widowers mourning their beloved's death. The quiet was filled with understanding and just a touch of healing.

“I better check on the boys, make sure they're sleeping and not sneaking treats,” Francis said after the long moment.

Arthur laughed, it was thick with unshed tears, but still a laugh. Francis found he quite liked the sound. “Good idea, Alfred is known for sneaking sweets past bedtime.”

“Oh, no. He better not teach Matthew,” Francis replied jokingly.

“If Alfred teaches Matthew to be naughty, I hope Matthew teaches Alfred some manners,” Arthur answered.

Francis let out a mock scoff. “That is hardly a fair trade.”

“You're right. It isn't.” Arthur chuckled again. This time, no tears were detected.

Francis smiled, not wanting the conversation to end, but not knowing what to add to it. He was much better at talking in person.

“Guess you should go check on them,” Arthur said softly.

“Yeah.”

“I'll be there around noon,” Arthur said. “Bye-”

“Hey, uh,” Francis said loudly, not wanting Arthur to hang up just yet. “Maybe we can have lunch? I mean, tomorrow when you come over. I'm a great cook.”

Arthur paused. Francis thought he had hung up, then Arthur chuckled. “Yeah. I'd like that. Well, I mean Alfred would.”

Francis grinned. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Francis.” Arthur hung up.

Cradling the phone in his hand, Francis glanced at the picture beside him on the side table. Andrew and himself smiled happily at the camera, both in neat suits, holding aloft elegant glasses of champagne, celebrating their marriage.

Francis ran his finger down the length of the picture frame before setting his phone beside it. He walked down the hall to Matthew's room.

The door was left cracked so Francis was able to peek inside without alerting either boy. Matthew's Scooby-Doo nightlight cast gentle shadows over the two boys. Apparently, Alfred and Matthew had decided they would share a bed. Francis smiled at the identical tufts of blond hair falling over the pillow.

Satisfied that both boys were completely tuckered out, Francis went back to his own bed and closed the door softly behind him.

¤

Arthur found himself fussing over his outfit. Literally fussing over an outfit. He felt ridiculous. He was a single dad, he didn't have time to fuss over silly things like this. should be wear a sweater vest? Or was that too dressy for lunch?

Huffing, Arthur slumped to his bed. It wasn't a date by any means, so why was he stressing over this? Hell, he wasn't even gay! He just couldn't figure out why he was so worried over it.

Arthur scowled, stood and grabbed the first thing his hand touched; a plain gray t-shirt. He usually wore it when he took Alfred to the park, it was comfortable and as he put it on he noticed it hugged his waist in just a way to make him look rather good. He firmly turned his back to the mirror and went downstairs to begin the short walk to Francis's house.

He knocked on the front door five minutes later. Francis answered this time, the boys were nowhere in sight. 

“Hi, Arthur,” Francis greeted with a smile.

“Hello. How was Alfred?” Arthur asked when Francis waved him in.

“He was just great.” Francis lead him to the kitchen where some amazing smells were coming from.

“Oh good. He's never had a sleepover before,” Arthur half-chuckled, unsure if that made him a bad parent. Alfred was five, pretty much a baby, and babies don't have sleep overs.

“Nothing to worry about.” Francis gestured to the island with a steaming pan full of food and barstools on the opposite side. “And,” Francis lowered his voice as he picked up a stirring spoon. “Alfred had no accidents.”

Arthur felt his jaw drop. “Really?”

Francis grinned. “Yup. He told me this morning while Matthew was in the tub. He seemed really happy about it.”

“That's amazing! I've been trying to break the bed wetting for months! How did you do it?”

“I didn't do anything,” Francis said. “It must have been Matthew.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “But, how-?”

“Dad! You're here!” Alfred shouted as he and Matthew slid around the corner in their socks.

“No sliding in the house!” Francis said sternly, though the boys just giggled.

“Hi, Alfred!” Arthur beamed. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! We had some yummy dinner, and played games and Matthew even let me help build his legos!”

Arthur smiled. “That's wonderful, baby.”

Alfred grinned and looked at Matthew, who wore the same expression.

“Oh no,” Francis said, though he was smiling. “What do you two want?”

“Can we go to the park?” They said in unison.

Arthur blinked. For a moment there, he could mix up the boys and accidentally take Matthew home. Then, he spotted the differences. Alfred’s hair was shorter than Matthew's, who had a slight curl to the blond locks. Their eyes were different shades of blue. But their begging expressions were identical and adorable as they looked at their fathers.

Francis glanced at Arthur. “I don't work today. We can go after lunch.”

Looking between the pleading boys and Francis. Arthur smiled. “Why not? We haven't been to the park in a while.”

Alfred cheered and grabbed Matthew's arm, they exchanged some blabber before bolting back up the stairs.

“No running in the house!” Arthur called after them. A heartbeat later, he realized another voice echoed his own. He turned and saw Francis giving him an odd look. Arthur blushed and looked at his hands in his lap.

Francis cleared his throat as he continued to cook. “So, you had a wife, Audra? What was she like?”

Arthur shifted. He didn't talk much about Audra. It made Alfred sad to hear stories about the mom he could hardly remember. “She was pretty. Though Alfred is adopted, everyone said he looked just like her. It always made her happy.”

“People said that about Matthew and I, then I would introduce Andrew as my husband. He always got a kick out of watching people stutter,” Francis said. He set his stirring spoon down and began to pile bowls into his arms.

Arthur stood and helped him set the table. It was much too big for just Francis and Matthew, though he noticed that one chair looked virtually untouched. There were six chairs total, but there was an eerie presence around that one. Arthur pushed that from his mind and thought of him and Alfred filling in the empty seats. Oddly, it made his chest warm. Then he smirked at Francis. “That's funny. I didn't take you as a guy who would marry someone with a sense of humor.”

Francis scoffed. “I myself am very funny. Matthew laughs at my jokes all the time.”

It was Arthur's turn to scoff. “He's five, he thinks fart bubbles in the tub are funny.”

“I think you may have gotten our sons switched up.” Francis grinned as Arthur swatted his shoulder.

“Sod off!”

They dissolved into small giggles which eventually turned into laughter, unaware that matching blue eyes were watching.

“Daddy hasn't laughed like that in a long time,” Alfred whispered.

Matthew nodded. “Papa doesn't laugh a lot either.”

“It's weird that they were both sad before they met. Now they're happy,” Alfred said. He watched his daddy turn to look at Matthew's papa. His daddy looked really happy to have a grown-up to talk to.

Suddenly, Matthew was swatting his arm.

“Ow! What, Mattie?” Alfred hissed, but Matthew was grinning widely.

“What if our daddies stayed being happy?” Matthew whispered.

“What?” Alfred furrowed his brow over his soft baby blues.

Matthew rolled his eyes. He loved Alfie, but he could be real dumb sometimes. “If our daddies stayed together, we would be like brothers!”

Slowly, Alfred seemed to get what Mattie was saying. “We would live together!”

“We would play all day-”

“And watch Scooby-Doo-”

“And eat snacks-”

“And share a room!”

“Awesome!” the boys finished together, matching tones and excitement.

“Okay. Mission: Get our Daddies to Move in Together, go!” Alfred punched the air and Mattie quickly threw his own hand up. Then he frowned. 

“Wait. How are we going to do it?” Matthew frowned.

Alfie stuck out his bottom lip as he thought. Mattie was usually smarter than him at school stuff, but this kind of thing was more Alfred's speed. “Well, we just make sure they're super happy when they're together, and sad when apart. And we tell them to sit by each other and take us fun places.”

Matthew nodded. “Okay! That sounds easy!”

“Ready, let's go!” Alfred threw his hand once again in the air. Matthew copied and the boys quickly made their way to the two dads.

“You boys hungry?” Francis grinned at the matching faces.

“Daddy, Francis cooks the best food!” Alfred said. He climbed into a seat at the table. The wooden table was pressed against the wall with the chairs tucked under and a window behind them. Leaving the two ends and the other side open with two seats beside each other. Alfred had crawled in the seat at the head of the table and Matthew quickly claimed the other.

Francis served the boys their lunch, then noticed that he and Arthur would be forced to sit beside each other. And it was a small table for four people. He rolled his eyes at Alfred and Matthew's antics and took his seat. Arthur settled beside him.

Arthur pressed his lips together and tried to ignore how his leg was pressed against Francis’s. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, just awkward. They had just stopped fighting over whose son was better just a few days ago.

They ate with a lot of talking. Arthur felt his heart in his throat as he watched Alfred laugh and devour his food. He hadn't looked so happy at dinner since his mom passed away. 

Matthew was equally as happy across the table from Alfred. They seemed to be communicating through slight facial expressions and small hand movements. It reminded Arthur of some of the baby books he and Audra had read. Something about twins talking silently to the other. He supposed since the boys were so young, it was just a common thing.

“They were like this all night,” Francis said softly.

Arthur chuckled. “Alfred’s never usually this rowdy. I'm sorry.”

Francis grinned and gave Arthur's knee a squeeze. It was innocent enough to mean nothing, yet warm enough to mean something. “Don't apologize, you get them next weekend.”


	4. Chapter 4

Widower  
Chapter Four 

“Alfred, I can't see!” Matthew whined.

“I'll tell you what they're doing, stop pulling on me!” Alfred said.

They were on the top step of the slide and spying on their dads. There was only room enough for one to peek over the metal poles that served as a fence, and Alfred was hogging the spot.

“But I wanna see, too!” Matthew stomped his foot.

“Okay! They're not doing anything anyway,” Alfred moved from the fence as Matthew quickly took over.

“No, but they're sitting close. Daddy and Papa used to do that,” Matthew said.

“You remember your daddy?” Alfred asked suddenly. He sat at the top of the slide, his chubby legs hanging down the bright red plastic.

“Well, yeah. Don't you remember your mommy?” Matthew replied.

“No. I was too little when she went to heaven,” Alfred said sadly.

Matthew turned away from their dads to look at Alfred. He looked so small and sad sitting at the top of the slide. “Its okay,” Matthew grabbed Alfreds pudgy and dirty hand. “I remember my daddy, but I still get sad, too.”

Alfred smiled thankfully. “Wanna play tag?”

“Yeah. You're it!” Matthew pushed Alfred down the slide, giggling.

“Cheater!” Alfred called as he tried to stop himself. He wouldn't let Mattie get away!

¤

“So, I get inside the house, mind you I smell something burning,” Francis talked with his hands, emphasizing everything with a wave or a gesture. Arthur liked it.“And he's asleep on the couch, with our newborn son on the ground, and with lasagna burning away in the oven!”

Arthur laughed. “Did you guys not have fire alarms?”

“We did, but since he always burnt things, he disabled them,” Francis said. He shook his head with a fond grin. “I turned off the oven, made sure it wasn't on fire, then I picked Matthew up, poor thing was coughing on the smoke. I smacked Andrew awake and he looked at me like I'm the bad guy!” Francis finished with a laugh.

“That's awful!” Arthur said, though he was laughing. “Sounds like me. Audra had banned me from the kitchen the moment we got that house.”

“No wonder Alfred asked for seconds last night. He's starving!” Francis joked.

Arthur punched his arm. “Shut it. He will eat anything.”

Francis laughed. “So does Matthew. I still have to take things from him he thinks he can eat.”

They finished laughing before Francis nudged Arthur. “Okay, what's your favorite Audra story?”

“Don't get weirded out,” Arthur said with a grin, “but this story is a little crazy.”

“Oh, no.” Francis leaned closer to Arthur, visibly interested.

It was nice having someone to talk to. Especially someone who understood. Francis didn't want to forget Andrew and move on. People didn't know he would always love Andrew. Death didn't mean you stopped loving the person, and Arthur understood that. Sharing their stories helped heal the sting he felt when he thought of burning lasagna, or how Matthew would cry for his daddy when Francis wasn't enough.

“We were spring cleaning and Audra found an old box of condoms. She set them on the counter to throw away or put in her junk box. Anyway, a little while later, Alfred comes storming into the living room. We ask him why he's mad and he said 'These balloons don't work!’” Arthur laughed behind his hand as Francis cracked up beside him.

“I can't wait until he's old enough to understand that story,” Francis guffawed.

“His face was covered in the lube and he kept saying his mouth tasted funny.” Arthur laughed at the memory. Alfred had been barely to his knee when he discovered the ‘balloons.’ 

Francis shook his head and wiped at his eyes. “We have some pretty crazy kids.”

Arthur nodded. “At least they're cute.”

“I had no idea a British man could be so witty,” Francis grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur found Alfred bolting from the bottom the slide. “I had no idea a French man could make good company.”

Francis watched Matthew sprint after Alfred, both of them were shouting. “Now you're just being cruel.”

Arthur let out a snort of amusement. They sat in comfortable silence until Francis spoke again.

“Would you ever remarry?”

Arthur frowned. “I don't know. It's hard to date someone while raising a kid on your own. Plus, I don't think many women would want to date a widowed father of an adopted child. That's a lot of baggage,” Arthur said. He looked up at Francis. “What about you?”

Francis shrugged. “It would be nice to have someone again. I would just need Matthew to be okay with it.”

“Of course Matthew should be okay with it. Dating someone that makes your child uncomfortable is cause for disaster,” Arthur said.

“He's just so shy. I'm worried he won't ever be okay with me dating,” Francis replied.

“Well, Alfred can help with that.” Arthur waved a hand over to their sons, who had added a small group of children to their game. Alfred and Matthew were obviously in charge. “Being shy, I mean”

Francis smiled as he watched Matthew chant something about a tiger getting his toe caught. Then he pointed a chubby finger at an adorable girl with mocha skin and wild curls, dubbing her ‘it.’ Screaming with laughter, the children scattered and the girl chased them.

“It would be nice if he wasn't so shy. He's always on my leg at family parties,” Francis said. Then, he grinned. “Andrew would carry him around all the time. It's a wonder he can walk.”

Arthur chuckled. “When we first got Alfred, Audra practically moved into the nursery. I had to drag her to our room most nights.”

“She sounds amazing, Arthur,” Francis said, suddenly solemn. “I bet she was a wonderful mother.”

“Andrew sounds pretty great, too,” Arthur said. He glanced at Francis. They both wore smiles. “Matthew was lucky to have him. Even for such a short time.”

Though they smiled, it really wasn't from joy. They felt a lifting from their chests. Not talking about their spouses to other family members had been easiest. Everyone knew the stories and the love that had been there, but sharing that with someone who understood what the memories meant know was a heavy weight lifted from their shoulders.

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Arthur asked suddenly. His heart was in his throat and he shoved his hands between his knees just incase they were shaking. Why was he so damn nervous?

“Didn't you just say you were banned from the kitchen?” Francis teased. And just like that, all of the anxiety left Arthur.

He shoved Francis’s shoulder. “It's movie-pizza night. Alfred's favorite. “

Francis beamed. “Sounds like fun. We'll be over around five?”

A small wave of relief fell over Arthur. Why had he been scared about asking Francis to come over? Sure, he hadn't had much company since Audra died. She had been the one with all the friends. Plus, asking so suddenly made it almost feel like it was a date between two middle schoolers.

“Great. Alfred is going to be thrilled,” Arthur said. Be checked his watch and found it well into lunch time. “We better go, Alfred will be needing lunch.”

Francis stood. “Matthew, too. He gets cranky when he's not fed,” he said. Then, he held his hand out to Arthur, who took it shyly.

“Alfred's the same way,” Arthur said with a laugh. He stood and (almost) reluctantly let go of Francis's hand. He looked over the playground. A group of men and women, most of them holding the hands of children were standing by the slide, one man hung back, waiting for his child to come down.

Francis smiled and turned to the playground. “Matthew! Alfred!” Identical heads looked up from the top of the slide. “Let's go!”

¤

“Coming, Papa!” Matthew called.

Alfred waved his arm wildly before planting himself at the top of the slide. “Did you see their hands?”

“What?” Matthew asked.

“They held hands! Didn't your Daddy and Papa do that?” Alfred grinned.

The lightbulb turned on and Matthew beamed. “Our plan is working!”

Alfred laughed and high-fived Matthew before pushing himself down the slide. He laughed all the way down the twists and turns, happy that his daddy looked happy. He and Mattie were going to be brothers! It was going to be so awesome!

At the bottom of the slide, he ran into a grown-up’s knees. With a small “Oof!” Alfred stumbled back to the end of the slide.

“Oh! I'm sorry, are you alright?” the man asked.

Alfred looked at the grown-up. He was wearing a ballcap with the bill low over his eyes. Alfred couldn't see most of his face. “I'm okay, my daddy will check anyway.”

The man grinned. “Good, is anyone else coming down the slide?”

“Just my friend, Mattie,” Alfred replied. He hopped off the slide, skirting around the man. “It's against the rules to stand at the bottom, unless you're catching someone.”

Another grin. “Thank you, I'll remember that.”

Alfred offered a weak smile, very different than his usual one. “I have to go to my daddy now.”

“Of course! Bye-bye,” the man waved.

Alfred didn't bother to wave back. He bolted around the man and beelined to his daddy. The man gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“Daddy!” Alfred called and jumped on Arthur's arm, practically dragging him down. “Can Francis and Mattie come to our pizza night?”

Arthur staggered before finding balance to hold Alfred up. “Why don't you ask Francis if he wants to come over?”

Alfred groaned, but he did ask, in his best voice, Francis and Matthew to dinner.

Francis laughed. “We would love to.”

“Awesome! Daddy gets pizza and breadsticks and sauce and sometimes we have rootbeer floats!”

“That sounds like lots of fun! Matthew and I will be there,” Francis tousled Alfred’s hair and was once again reminded of how similar the two boys are.

Francis looked behind Alfred, expecting Matthew would be close since they were both on the slide, but he only saw the mostly empty playground.

“Was Matthew behind you on the slide, Al?” Francis asked.

“Yeah. He was probably waiting for the guy to move. Mattie always waits until no one is at the bottom. It's the rule,” Alfred said.

“There was a guy at the bottom of the slide?” Arthur knelt down and looked his son in the eyes.

“Yeah, I hit his legs. I told him the rule though. He said okay and I came here,” Alfred frowned. “Was that bad?”

“No, baby,” Arthur looked up at Francis who was frantically scanning the playground. “Did this man say anything else? Anything about Mattie?”

“No. He just said he would follow the rule.” Alfred followed Arthur's gaze to Francis. He was now at the base of the slide, calling Matthew's name. “What happened?”

“I don't know, baby,” Arthur stood and clutched Alfred's hand. “Don't let go, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Arthur jogged over to Francis and placed his free hand on his shoulder. “Any sign of him?”

“No, he would have heard me,” Francis's eyes were swimming with tears. His face had taken on an ashy color.

“We'll find him,” Arthur squeezed Francis's shoulder.

Francis barely nodded before turning back to the playground. “Matthew!” Only silence answered him.

Arthur looked around before spotting a few women sitting on a bench nearby. Clutching Alfred's hand, he went to them.

“Excuse me,” he approached the women. They broke off their conversation and gazed at Arthur. “I'm looking for a boy. He looks just like my son here,” he pointed to Alfred. “His name is Matthew, he seemed to have wandered off.”

The women dropped their eyes to Alfred, who was becoming upset. Where was Mattie? And why was Francis crying?

“Oh, yes. He looks familiar. The other one had longer hair though,” one woman said. She was slim in her slacks and pumps.

“You're right, Emma,” the other woman, a slightly plump girl with a pencil skirt. “He was with a man.”

Arthur felt his breath catch. “Did you see which way they were going?”

“Er, yes,” the first woman said. “Down that way,” she pointed north. The street opened up to parked cars and stores. There were a few people gathered on the sidewalk.

“Thank you,” Arthur scooped Alfred up and ran to Francis.

“Francis! I know where he went!” Arthur grabbed the other father's arm. “This way, let's go.”

Tears had been replaced with rage as they almost ran down the sidewalk. Francis yelled his son's name, frantically checking every child they ran by.

Suddenly, Alfred pointed. “That's the man with the hat.”

Arthur found the man. He had a little boy in his arms, one that looked just like Alfred. “Francis! There!” Arthur grabbed Francis’s arm and together they ran to the man.

“Matthew!” Francis shouted.

The little blond head whipped around. “Papa!”

The man broke out into a run. People around him shouted for him to slow down. Arthur let Francis go, knowing he could run faster without him and Alfred weighing him down. As Francis sprinted after his son, Arthur dug his phone out to dial 911. Phone pressed to his ear, Arthur continued to follow Francis.

“911, what's your emergency?” a calm woman answered.

“A boy, a little boy has been taken,” Arthur huffed. He was struggling to keep Francis in his sight. Alfred wasn't the lightest kid in the world.

“Is he your son? Did you see who took him?”

“No, he's my friend’s. He's chasing him right now.”

“Matthew! No!” Francis's shriek was accompanied by banging fists on windows to a 2001 sedan.

“He has Matthew in a car!” Arthur wailed into the phone. He watched Francis run with the moving vehicle, desperately trying to open the doors.

“Licence plate!” the dispatcher snapped.

“X53 1YP!” Arthur shouted. He gasped as the sedan jerked to the right, promptly throwing Francis into a gutter. “He's going north on Kiesel Street!”

“Units will be there soon, sir. Can you describe the child?”

Arthur caught up and knelt beside Francis. His hands and arms were scraped to the elbow. Tears ran freely down his face. Arthur set Alfred down and wrapped an arm around Francis. “He's five, blond hair, blue eyes. His name is Matthew.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Francis,” Arthur dropped the phone to his shoulder. “What was Mattie wearing?”

“I don't know,” Francis said dumbly.

“Francis, what was Matthew wearing?” Arthur all but yelled in Francis's face.

The man hardly flinched, but some light came into his eyes for a moment. “Purple shirt. There was a green character on it. Jean shorts. Black and blue tennis shoes.”

Arthur quickly relayed the information.

“He was Donatello. I was Leonardo,” Alfred said suddenly.

“What, Alfred?” Arthur asked.

“He had Donatello on his shirt. The Ninja Turtle,” Alfred pointed to his blue shirt. “I was Leonardo.”

Arthur watched quietly as Alfred hugged Francis tightly. “You can be Mikey, you're happy like him. Daddy is Raphael because he gets mad like him.”

Francis merely stared at Alfred. He had freckles on his nose. They were light, hardly there unless you looked. Matthew had the same freckles. He wrapped his arms around Alfred and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

Widower  
Chapter Five

Alfred was asleep in Francis's lap with chocolate donut clinging to his chubby cheeks and lips. Francis held Alfred close to his chest. He had stopped crying, but his eyes were still rimmed red and he shook. Arthur was in the next room, talking to a group of policemen and women.

A cop car and zoomed by them, sirens blaring, not a minute after Francis fell down. A second car came a moment later and picked them up to take them to the station.

Francis, unable to talk properly, was put in a room with Alfred to wait. The receptionist brought them both donuts, Alfred chocolate milk and Francis coffee. Alfred had gobbled up his snack while Francis merely stared at his bloody hands. The receptionist pointed him to the bathroom to clean up. Francis managed to clean his scrapes and came back to a sleepy Alfred.

Arthur looked through the window separating him and Francis and Alfred. Francis looked terrible.

“And you didn't see the man's face?” The lady officer asked.

“No. Alfred saw him, but he said the man had a hat on,” Arthur replied.

“Okay. Does Mr. Bonnefoy have any enemies?”

“I don't know. We've only known each other for a few weeks,” Arthur sighed. Then an idea struck him. “He is gay, though. Do you think this could have been a homophobic thing?”

The woman frowned. “I highly doubt that since it was a child abduction.”

“Oh,” Arthur folded his arms tightly across his chest. “So, what do we do?”

“We wait. Either for my boys to come back, a ransom call or, in the worst case possible, a body.”

Arthur felt his stomach flip. Who would do that to a poor child? “Do you have any more questions?” he asked unsteadily. 

“No. You can go sit with him now. We'll inform you if something happens,” the policewoman placed a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder.

“Thank you,” Arthur smiled gratefully. He wiped his eyes before he opened the door to the room Francis was in.

Francis snapped his head up. “Any news?”

Arthur shook his head. “Not yet, they're still out looking.”

“Oh,” Francis looked down at Alfred. “He's been sleeping for a while. You should probably take him home.”

“What?” Arthur folded his arms and raised an impressive eyebrow.

“You should take Alfred-”

“We're not going anywhere,” Arthur interrupted. He plopped into the seat across from them.

“But, Alfred-”

“Is fine right where he is,” Arthur patted Francis's arm. “I'm not going to let you do this alone.”

Francis felt tears build up in his eyes. He lowered his head to let his shoulder length hair fall into his face. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Arthur had half the mind to go around the table and hug the other man, but he didn't. He didn't want to overstep himself and make Francis uncomfortable, especially with Matthew still missing.

They sat in silence except for a sniffle or two from Francis and Alfred mumbling once in awhile. Alfred woke up ten minutes later and was soon occupied by some paper and crayons the policewoman brought.

Three hours and twenty-one minutes later, they had news about Matthew.

The policewoman came bursting in the room, her lightly made-up face flushed. “We found him,” was all she said before Francis shoved past her and was out the door.

Arthur stood and helped Alfred pick up his crayons and drawing. He then hefted the boy to his hip and followed Francis. He was about two yards ahead of them. His blue eyes were wild and looking through the crowd of bustling gray police uniforms. Finally, he spotted Matthew. He was sitting in a black plastic chair with a small group of officers. One was holding a bloodied rag to Matthew's head.

“Mattie!” Francis called. His voice was hoarse. He somehow made his way through the bustling hall. “Matthew!” he tried again, louder. People began to move out of his way. Finally, Francis found his voice. “Matthew!”

“Papa!” Matthew pushed out of his chair and ran on shaking legs to his dad.

Francis fell to his knees and pulled Matthew tight to his chest. Matthew's little body trembled with sobs as his hands gripped Francis’s shirt.

Arthur and Alfred joined them, relief flooding them. Alfred saw Francis and Matthew crying and began to shed tears himself.

Francis pulled away after a few minutes and noticed the gash just above Matthew's right eyebrow. “What happened?”

The officer that mad been holding the rag come forward. “The suspect was on the freeway and refused to pull over. We forced him into the barrier,” he explained. He handed Francis the rag. “Matthew wasn't in a car seat and hit his head on the window.”

Francis gasped and wiped at the bleeding wound. “We have to get to the hospital.”

“We brought him here first,” the cop smiled sheepishly. “Thought you had been away from him for long enough.”

The rag pressed firmly to Matthew's face, Francis stood with his son in his arms. “Thank you. I can never repay you.”

The small team of cops stood and all smiled. The first one to speak held his hand out to Matthew, who placed his small and bloody hand in his. “Just let us know how he is.”

“Of course, thank you.” Francis looked down at Matthew. “What do you tell these men for helping you?”

Matthew lifted his head from Francis's shoulder. “Thank you.”

Arthur placed a hand on Francis's other shoulder. “Let's get him to the hospital.”

The female officer then came forward. The man in front of Arthur and Francis quickly saluted, along with the rest of the group. She waved a hand at them before addressing Arthur and Francis. “It would be an honor to escort you to the hospital.”

Francis smiled gratefully and looked over to Arthur. “Does Alfred have all of his things?”

“Are we coming with you?” Arthur asked, a little taken aback.

Glancing around, Francis shuffled closer to Arthur. “Would you, please? I don't think I can handle being alone right now.”

Arthur swallowed the blush that threatened to creep up on him. “Yeah, we can come with.”

“Thank you,” Francis said. He squeezed Arthur's arm and they were shown outside to a squad car.

Alfred and Matthew were entranced with all of the buttons and toggles. Francis tried to keep Matthew on his lap, but Alfred's excitement had both of them babbling about how cool the cop car was.

When they reached the hospital, Francis was ready to collapse into a long sleep. He managed to lead Matthew into the Emergency Room and get him in line for a doctor to look at his forehead.

“How about some coffee?” Arthur said softly as Matthew and Alfred shared the hospital bed.

“That would be great.” Francis smiled at Arthur. Had Arthur's eyes always been so pretty?

“Just black?”

“Two sugars, thanks,” Francis cleared his throat.

“Alright.” Arthur patted Francis’s shoulder before going to the boys. “Would you two like a snack?”

“Yeah! I'm starving, Daddy! We didn't get lunch!” Alfred gripped his stomach.

“I know, baby,” Arthur ruffled his hair, “but we'll still have pizza night, if you're up to it.”

“Yay!” Alfred threw his arms around Matthew. The other boy laughed and shoved him off.

“I'll be right back with some snacks,” Arthur said. He placed a kiss on Alfred’s head and, without thinking, gave Matthew one as well. He was half-way down the line of hospital beds before he realized what he had done, and blushed wildly.

Francis watched him go. He hated to be alone, but he did somewhat enjoy watching Arthur walk away. Francis shook his head to clear the thought. Arthur was straight and he had his son to think about. Both of them did.

A few minutes after Arthur had left, a doctor finally came to their small area, he was bubbly with brunet hair that was pretty tame besides a wild curl.

“Matthew?” He asked with a grin.

“That's me,” Mattie said.

“I'm Alfred!” He couldn't help but say.

“Hello Alfred, Mathew, I'm Feliciano Vargas, but you can call me Feli. I'm going to fix up that cut there,” the doctor said. “May I sit?”

Alfred and Matthew scrambled out of the way to make room for Feli. Francis felt a sharp intake of breath as the doctor peeled the rag from Matthew's head. He hovered over them, his arms folded tightly to his chest.

“Does it hurt?” Feli asked.

Matthew screwed his lips to the side. “It hurts like a really big bruise.”

Feli smiled sympathetically. “I bet it does. I'll give you some medicine to make that to away, but first, wanna play a game?”

Both boys nodded eagerly.

“Wonderful! Matthew, follow my finger with just your eyes,” the doctor then did a series of procedures to test for any brain issues. When Alfred whined that he wanted to play, the same tests were done on him.

“Yay! You both win!” Feli cheered and the boys laughed. “Now, if it's okay with Dad, I'll stitch that up and get you some medicine.”

All eyes turned to Francis, still standing watchfully over the bed. He wasn't worried that the doctor would harm Matthew, he was just afraid to take him out of his sight. “Er, yes, that's fine,” he managed to stammer out.

“Okay! I'll just need Alfred off the bed-”

“I wanna watch!” Alfred said suddenly.

The doctor glanced at Francis, obviously thinking that Francis was the father of both boys. “It's not terribly gruesome. He can watch if he really wants.”

Francis turned to Alfred. “Can you handle it?”

Alfred nodded eagerly and Francis scooped him up. He shuffled to the far side of the bed to give the doctor enough room. Feli patted Matthew's shoulder, gave him a shot beside the wound and began to stitch it up.

Matthew kept his eyes firmly shut as Feliciano worked. About half way through, Arthur returned with two styrofoam cups of coffee and snacks.

“How is he?” Arthur asked approaching the bed.

Alfred gasped. “No, Daddy! Don't look!”

“What's the matter, baby?” Arthur look over Francis's shoulder and saw the needle go through Matthew's flesh. Arthur gagged and turned his back to them.

“I told you not to look!” Alfred said.

“Arthur? Are you all right?” Francis asked with concern.

“Yes, yes, it's just-” Arthur felt his stomach turn and he gagged again.

“Papa? What's wrong with Arthur?” Matthew said. He turned his head but the doctor managed to grab his chin and hold him in place.

“Will you please leave the area, sir? I'm afraid this is making it harder to do,” Feliciano said.

Francis set Alfred on his feet, took the things from Arthur's hands to the table, and wrapped an arm around Arthur's shoulders. “Stay here, Alfred,” he said before escorting Arthur from the hospital bed.

“Are you okay?” Francis asked nervously.

“Yes, it's just-” Arthur dragged his hands through his hair. He was shaking. “We haven't been in a hospital since Audra died. Alfred seems okay but I passed a room on the way to coffee and there was a woman covered in blood-” he broke off with a sob.

Francis wrapped his arms fully around Arthur. He knew the feeling. He was just glad they weren't at the hospital where Andrew died. He didn't know what they would do with themselves if they were both a crying mess.

After a moment, Arthur pulled away and wiped his face. His ears were red and Francis wasn't sure if it was from the crying or if he was blushing. “I'm sorry for the trouble, we should get back to the boys,” he said, with just a slight tremble in his voice.

“Its no problem, Matthew is probably enjoying all the attention from the doctor anyway,” Francis replied.

Arthur gave a small, rough laugh. They walked back to the curtained area. Matthew had a white bandage on his forehead and both boys were seated on the bed now with the doctor talking animatedly and using plenty of hand gestures.

Alfred caught sight of them first and excitedly called them over. “Daddy! Francis! Dr. Feli is telling us about a guy who got a Mr. Potato Head stuck in his throat!”

Arthur was taken aback, what kind of story was that? “Well...isn't that...something.”

The doctor stood and handed Francis Matthew's chart. “Take this to the nurse’s desk and you'll be good to go.”

“Thank you so much,” Francis said. He clutched the clipboard tightly in his hands. “Sorry it was kind of chaotic.”

“No, no, you're just fine.” The doctor grinned. “It's amazing what you two are doing. Especially with twins!”

Francis furrowed his brow. “What we’re doing? Twins? What do you mean?”

“Being married,” Dr. Feliciano said.

Arthur flushed darkly. “What! No!” He didn't see the set of two identical heads turning to look at him.

“We're not together,” Francis said. “Our sons go to school together.”

Feliciano's cheeks turned red. “Oh! I'm so sorry! They just look so alike, I assumed.”

“Don't worry about it.” Francis offered a reassuring smile, though he felt like someone was sitting on his chest.

With a hasty nod, the doctor left, his ears bright red.

Arthur huffed and folded his arms tightly. “As if I would ever date you.”

Francis smirked. “How come? Am I too good for you?”

“No,” Arthur narrowed his eyes, he tried to ignore the pounding in his chest, excusing it for offense that the doctor thought him gay, “too French.”

A genuine smile lit up Francis's face and he laughed. “I wouldn't date you either if that makes you feel better.”

“And why is that?”

“Your sense of style,” Francis said. He even flicked his hair over his shoulder as he lifted Matthew from the bed.

Arthur let his mouth drop open and he pushed Francis's shoulder. They shared a laugh before Arthur picked Alfred up.

“You know,” Arthur said, willing himself not to blush. “You're welcome to come over for pizza still. If Matthew is up to it.”

Francis smiled and looked down at Matthew. “How about it, little guy? Feel like hanging out?”

Matthew looked over the small space to Alfred. He asked in Alfred's head if he should come. Their daddies seemed to be getting along now and he didn't want to ruin it by leaving or being around too much.

Alfred grinned and told Matthew they should come. Their daddies were acting like best friends and he didn't want them to be lonely now.

“I'm okay to go,” Matthew said after his silent conversation with Alfred ended.

Francis nodded. “Alright, we'll go.”


End file.
